Don was relentlessly energetic, witty, and — much to the frustration of his two (sequential) wives, Janet Lowder Berg (preceded in death) and Carole Hayes Berg — perennially tardy. He was a lifelong learner and patient teacher with an unquenchable thirst for understanding the world around us. Whether he was planning a camping trip, engineering a Halloween costume for one of his daughters, or outfitting his station wagon with a custom mattress for drive-in movies, Don sought to infuse the lives of those around him with a sense of joy and wonder.
Don was always ahead of his time: a progressive futurist thinker; an anti-litter crusader with a deep respect for the earth; a financially astute stock investor (who placed early bets on Microsoft, Starbucks, and Google); and a champion of the marginalized, consciously accepting of differences in race, religion, and sexual orientation. His big heart fueled the nostalgic collection of memorabilia, particularly that related to his 34-year career as a traveling salesman for 3M. (He always insisted, however, that there was certain future utility for his doodads.)
Fanatical curation of souvenirs wasn’t Don’s only quirk. He was known to load up his young daughters in the car to chase ambulances in pursuit of disaster, even once to observe a plane crash at the Salt Lake Airport. He was prone to obsessions, like the hunt for the perfect Joshua tree that joined the family in the camper for the duration of a long road trip. His legendary stubbornness and pride occasionally sparked protracted analysis paralysis, and in his later years, an utter refusal to use hearing aids or canes: those, the nonagenarian asserted, were for “old people.” He still managed to find humor in the little things, cracking jokes through the end, much to the surprise and delight of hospital staff.
Don’s hobbyist pursuit of architecture blended with his love for Lakes Powell and Bear (his favorite places to boat and waterski) when he designed and built a beachfront house in Laketown, Utah. He knew both places like the back of his hand and served as an amateur guide to any family and friends in tow. Whether he was fixing his old tractor up at Bear Lake or golfing down in St. George, Don could likely be found dancing to big band music on a Saturday night, then enjoying a big pancake breakfast the next morning.
Despite being raised during the Great Depression, Don experienced a pastoral childhood: he was born at home, had his tonsils out on the kitchen table, and worked for the parks department mowing lawns, where he sustained a tractor-induced pelvis fracture that doctors told him would keep him off the field forever. (Don proved them wrong by snow skiing for 76 consecutive years through his 89th birthday, and summiting Mt. Olympus at 65.) Despite the watchful eyes of his parents (British mother Eva Helen Elizabeth Ham and father Alick Theodore Berg) and older half-siblings (Vyola, Marvin, and Leo Hansen) a mischievous Don and his younger brother Barry Berg burned down the family car and garage while siphoning gas for a friend — using a candle. His boisterous adolescence, punctuated by storied Saturday night dances at Saltair and Lagoon, culminated in his graduation from South High, where he spent three years as a proud Bear Cub.
Family and friends of Don are invited to join his three surviving generations (four daughters — Marco Kunz (Blair), Darci Creer (Jeff), Tina Ruga (Jonathan), and Launi Green (Scott) — 14 grandchildren, 16 great-grandchildren) and widow, Carole Hayes Berg at Wasatch Lawn & Mortuary at 3401 S. Highland Drive on Saturday, March 9th.
